


Do Not Fear

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Series: Hell and High Water [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Memory Loss, One-Sided Attraction, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 23:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10729560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: Agent Widowmaker had not expected to lower her rifle at the feeling of a cold pistol muzzle pressed into the nape of her neck.Of all the calculations she'd made, Widowmaker dared to consider that that was her most egregious error. She had not expected hesitation.





	Do Not Fear

When Agent Widowmaker first slipped behind enemy lines, it was for sake of the mission alone: pick off the stragglers, take out higher-profile targets if able, and get out again.

It had been a solid plan. She was, naturally, the most mobile of Talon's agents, able to get in and out with no trouble whatsoever. That, perhaps, was the most crucial element of the plan in which she was involved. Widowmaker was, after all, the most infamous and (in turn) most wanted of Talon's agents, with a kill list a mile long and not a missed target to her name. Had any of the Overwatch agents stumbled upon her before she could get away, her body would've been riddled with bullets long before it could hit the ground.

Which would make her current sniping spot on a rooftop in plain sight an  _ exceedingly _ stupid idea. Stupider yet would be to remain standing so still there—that, of course, would make her a visible and easy target. And choosing such a heavily-trafficked and easily-accessible rooftop as the one on which she was perched? An altogether  _ amateur _ mistake. Particularly given her targets amongst the Overwatch agents below her, who preferred to shoot first than ask questions ever. Sloppy. Sloppy.

Agent Widowmaker had not expected to lower her rifle at the feeling of a cold pistol muzzle pressed into the nape of her neck. Well. Not for more than a second, anyway.

Of all the calculations she'd made tonight, Widowmaker dared to consider that that was her most egregious error. She had not expected  _ hesitation. _

Widowmaker supposed, as the seconds ticked by with the pistol pressed against her skin, that it was fortunate she did not truly  _ feel, _ as making such a miscalculation as not expecting the  _ healer _ to corner her would've been altogether  _ infuriating. _ As it was, though, Widowmaker could do little more than offer a thin little ghost of a chuckle.

" _ Bonne nuit, docteur. _ "

The pistol trembled for scarcely a second, but Widowmaker noticed it nonetheless. A cruel smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"...Put the rifle down," said Mercy's cold voice behind her. Impressive. The doctor sounded nearly as impassive as Widowmaker herself did. As though she didn't  _ care. _ But, oh, she did. Widowmaker  _ knew  _ she did. The first time she'd encountered the medic in the field Mercy had been so  _ shocked, _ so  _ shaken _ that it'd taken one of her teammates grabbing her and physically yanking her along after them to snap her out of it. It must have hurt her tremendously to see her former acquaintance's face on the opposing side. Oh, she  _ cared _ alright. Her words, though, were... concerning.

"And why would I do that?"

"You think I'm going to  _ let _ you stand here and take shots at my teammates?" Ah,  _ there _ was a thread of emotion, if indeed incredulity could be called an emotion.

"And  _ you're _ going to stop me?" Widowmaker asked, injecting some scorn into her words, the question stabbing out at Mercy. She even let a little scoff slip her lips. " _ Please. _ " She lifted the Widow's Kiss as if to take aim again.

Mercy surprised her by pressing the gun harder against her neck, letting Widowmaker feel the way the cold metal  _ dug _ into her sickly cyanotic skin. "Amélie Lacroix," she hissed through her teeth; Widowmaker twitched slightly at the name, "if you make me shoot now, it  _ will _ be fatal."

Ah, there it was. That cruel smile tugged at Widowmaker's lips again. She gazed down at the battle ongoing on the streets below them both, oblivious to the pair of them high above. What  _ would _ the world think, she mused, about the world's greatest assassin being murdered in cold blood by the doctor who had defied death itself? Poetic justice, or something like it. Her smile broadened into a vicious grin, and those brilliant golden eyes slid closed. "So  _ do it. _ " It was a dare.

The gun remained pressed hard into the nape of her neck, digging an imprint of the barrel into her skin, unmoving. A slow, shuddering breath behind her—two of them. There was a soft slide- _ click _ of the pistol's hammer cocking, and then there were no breaths for a long moment. Widowmaker waited patiently. The pistol trembled.

"...Break, break, Tracer, Tracer, this is Mercy, how do you copy? Over." Widowmaker's eyes snapped open as the pistol left her skin. She whipped around and was met with Mercy's gun still aimed at her, gaze steely cold, one hand at the communicator at her ear. "Requesting backup and transport, Agent Widowmaker cornered, I say again, requesting backup and transport—"

_ Transport? _ Her eyes narrowed sharply at the determined look in those hardened blue eyes. The instant it clicked, Widowmaker's mouth turned down in a deep scowl.  _ Oh, _ absolutely _ not. _

Mercy wasn't expecting the palm strike, the heel of Widowmaker's hand crushing the bridge of her nose effortlessly and sending her sprawling back onto the concrete. She swore viciously as blood streamed down her face in thick crimson rivulets. Widowmaker's steel heel knocked out whatever breath remained in her as it slammed hard into her chest. There was a flicker of startled fear on her face an instant before Mercy reached out for her gun, snarling, teeth slick with her own blood.

Widowmaker  _ tsk _ ed at her, raising her gauntlet, the slender robotic mine already shifting in its casing for launch. Those bright blue eyes widened; point blank, that venom was deadly. Widowmaker knew she'd seen those effects firsthand.

A cold, sarcastic smile touched Widowmaker's expression. " _ Adieu, docteur. _ " And with a single, intentional motion, the mine's needle-like talons stabbed into her wrist, flooding hypoxic blood with venom, and Widowmaker swore she heard Mercy gasp in something like horror before she succumbed to the black swimming behind her vision.


End file.
